


Wayward

by IceQueen1



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Doctor Whump, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, The Master Has Issues, The Master Whump, The Oncoming Storm, The Shadow Proclamation, Torchwood - Freeform, Whump, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12936033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceQueen1/pseuds/IceQueen1
Summary: Entirely based on the thought of Ten going from Oncoming Storm to Destroyer of Worlds in the eyes of the Shadow Proclamation. The Doctor, after the events of losing Donna at the end of series 4 and his friend at the end of series 3, disappears for longer than usual. Until one day, the TARDIS crashes into the Hub of Torchwood 3, the heart dark and lifeless and the exterior showing signs of battle. The Doctor is...less than helpful...trying to find out what happened and where he's been.And if that wasn't bad enough, someone isn't as dead as Jack would've liked. But he's unfortunately the only one who seems to have an idea of what's gone wrong, and may be the only thing standing between them and the VERY pissed off Shadow Proclamation.





	1. Chapter 1

"Rift activity," Gwen Cooper called from the computer station. She hit a few keys on the keyboard. "Right upstairs, actually."

"Can you get it on the CCTV?" Captain Jack Harkness asked, taking the stairs two at a time to stand beside Gwen.

Ianto Jones glanced up from the fresh load of paper work he was trying to sort through from the Daleks stealing the Earth.

"Trying. I'm still not as fast as Tosh," she said, before biting her lip.

Ianto and Jack shared a look. It was barely a week since Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato were killed fending off Jack's psychotic younger brother Gray and saving Cardiff from his plot for revenge. Their names were still a sort of taboo – every time they were mentioned, the remaining three of the Torchwood team would falter and immediately switch topics. It wasn't healthy, but the wounds were too fresh to care.

The computer screen picked up the outside of the Millennium Stadium, scanning the wharf for whatever caused the rift detector to go off.

Ianto saw it first. "Isn't that…" he tapped at the screen where they saw a familiar blue box.

"The TARDIS," Jack confirmed. "What the hell is he doing back so soon?"

"Maybe he wanted to make sure we were all right?" Gwen suggested. She couldn't help a small grin. The Doctor  _was_  cute, even if he was as old as Jack claimed he was.

"Probably refueling," the ever-practical Ianto said. "The TARDIS refuels on the energy from the rift. After towing the Earth back, he probably needs more energy."

"But he would've left by now." Jack shook his head. "Something isn't right. Ianto, with me, Gwen, stay here in case something goes wrong. Call Martha Jones or Mickey Smith if we need back up."

"Got it," Gwen said, tapping away at the keyboard to focus all cameras on the blue box, making sure it didn't disappear as Jack and Ianto headed for the stairs.

Outside the hub, Ianto glanced cautiously over at Jack as they made their way towards the TARDIS.

"Jack, I don't hear anything, do you?" Ianto asked.

Jack paused for a moment, listening for the TARDIS's engines, but Ianto was right. The ship was silent, and stood as still as if it were a real police call box.

As they approached, Jack with his Webley drawn and Ianto with their rift detector, which honestly performed more functions than computer twice its size, Jack was almost half convinced that the TARDIS was going to take off as soon as it sensed him, like it did last time.

But it didn't. It stood dead and dark in the middle of the plaza, no hum from the engines, and no sounds of life inside.

" _Any life signs_?" Gwen asked over the Blue tooth.

Ianto glanced down at the palm pilot. "There's someone inside," he answered.

Jack carefully placed a hand on the door of the TARDIS, and immediately pulled it back as if burned, eyes widening in shock.

"What, is it hot?" Ianto asked.

Jack shook his head, unable to tear his gaze away from the ship. "Ice cold…" He gently pushed on the door, and it swung open with little effort, revealing nothing but darkness.

The reaction was instantaneous. Jack's face hardened and his lips pressed into a firm line. He raised his hand, two fingers raised and signaled for Ianto to cover him.

Ianto gave a brief nod and Jack darted into the darkened ship, making a visual sweep, following the line of sight with his gun. The interior was black and cold. The heart of the TARDIS, normally vibrant and alive was just as dark as the rest of the ship.

"Torch," Jack said, not even looking as Ianto tossed him a flashlight. He deftly caught it and turned it on, sweeping the beam across the dark interior of the living ship. There was nothing in the shadows that he could see, and he cautiously started around the main console in the center of the bridge.

"Ianto, you said there were life signs in here. Where?"

Ianto glanced down at the monitor in his hand, the other firmly holding his own weapon out, trained on one of the darkened corridors where Jack was creeping by. Just in case. Who knew what a Time Lord kept as a security defense?

"There's only one," he said.

"One?" Jack echoed, frowning. When he last saw the Doctor, there were two of him, Rose, Jackie and Donna still aboard the TARDIS. "Are you sure?"

Ianto nodded. "It's right in front of you. Not moving."

Jack glanced around the console, craning his neck to see around the corner. "I don't see anything."

Ianto checked the readings again and gestured in front of Jack. "Look down," he suggested.

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes, but a flash of color caught the corner of his eye. In the blackened interior of the ship, it was the only thing that stood out and Jack focused the flashlight on it.

It was the tip of a formerly blue trainer, spattered in red. Absurdly, Jack thought it was rather strange for the Doctor to be painting anything inside the TARDIS, but he knew that it wasn't paint. If he hadn't worked for Torchwood for over a century, the suddenly strong metallic smell in the air would've made him gag.

"Ianto, get over here," he hissed.

"Did you find him?" Ianto asked in the same hushed tone. It seemed absurd to be whispering to one another, but there was something about the coldness of the once vibrant ship that demanded reverence.

Jack didn't answer, instead he handed the flashlight off to Ianto as he crouched down to see underneath the console, following the bloody shoe up a ragged and twitching leg that glistened in the meager light. The dark suit pants absorbed most of the color, but Jack knew the blood for what it was.

"Doctor?" Jack whispered.

The shadowed form of the Time Lord didn't move, didn't respond at all to the sound.

"Ianto, get the light down here," he said. The Welshman did as commanded and Jack heard the slight gasp as Ianto finally got a good look at the Doctor. It occurred to Jack at that moment that this was Ianto's first introduction to the Doctor beyond a two-minute conversation on a web link before the Daleks tried to destroy the universe. It wasn't quite the meeting he envisioned…

"He looks like shit," Ianto said bluntly, putting the back of his free hand up to his mouth briefly.

In the wavering light of the flashlight, Jack could see the damage a little better, though honestly wished he couldn't.

The Doctor was worse off than Jack had ever seen him, but then, the Doctor was almost never injured in his escapades. The most obvious injury was the ragged tear in the Time Lord's upper leg, just above the knee; a long, uneven gash that cut deeply into the flesh and was still bleeding. His left hand was clamped around he right arm near the elbow, his right hand twitching convulsively from what Jack assumed was shock, like the badly wounded leg, but didn't look nearly as badly injured. If Jack had to guess, he would say that the arm was probably broken rather than torn like his leg. Disturbingly, the spasming muscles were the only movement the Doctor exhibited. He hadn't reacted at all to Jack's presence, Ianto, or the light that was now shining almost in his face.

Ianto had the sense not to shine the full force of the beam into the stricken alien's eyes.

Beside the leg wound, the most obvious one was the head injury. It looked like the Time Lord had smashed the crown of his forehead against something hard, rupturing the skin along his hairline. The entire left side of his face was covered in a sheen of fresh blood, shining in the torch light. Whatever he'd hit had also ruptured a blood vessel in one eye, and the disturbing half red stare made the Doctor appear almost demonic in the darkness.

Jack could hear the Doctor's ragged gasping as his chest heaved like he'd been running for miles without stop.

But the worst thing of all was the wide-eyed, terrified look on his face, and the unfocused gaze as he stared off at something only he could see.

"Doctor?" Jack said.

There was no response.

"Doctor?" Jack repeated. He carefully brushed one hand across the undamaged part of the Doctor's leg, half expecting to be kicked in surprise. He would've preferred that to the complete lack of response he got. The Doctor didn't so much as blink. There was nothing to suggest that the Doctor even knew they were there.

"Jack…with those wounds…even if he is a Time Lord, he's going to need a doctor," Ianto said.

"Do you know a doctor who treats aliens?" Jack bit back, and immediately bit his lip. Ianto was trying to help, but Jack was beyond clueless how to deal with an injured Time Lord. Most species in the universe didn't even know that they existed, and even the ones that did didn't have much of a medical background on the Doctor, except that he had two hearts.

"Martha," Ianto said simply. "We still have her number and she's still in Cardiff working out things with UNIT."

Jack could've smacked himself. Of course Martha would be the one to call. Not only was she a doctor who had clearance to deal with the Doctor, but she also was around him during the most medical emergencies he probably ever experienced.

"Gwen," he said, tapping the Blue tooth headset.

" _Thank God, I was wondering what had happened to you_."

"Call Martha Jones. Tell her we need her help with the Doctor," Jack ordered.

" _She's going to want details Jack, why do you need her_?"

"The Doctor's hurt. Pretty bad, judging by the looks of things. Just tell her we need her here ASAP."

" _On it_."

"Come on Doctor," Jack said, refocusing on the Time Lord. "We need to get you out of here. " He turned back to Ianto. "What do you think is the best way to move him? I want to get him out of here on our own if we can. I don't think he wants a lot of people wandering around on the TARDIS." He shot a look over his shoulder at Ianto, who was fighting off a greenish tinge. Ever since the Brecon Beacons, blood always made him more nauseous than before.

"If he allows you to touch him, try and pull him up by the uninjured arm without moving his leg too much," Ianto suggested. "We can try and carry him ourselves, but are you sure that won't do more harm than good?"

"We can't leave him here like this, and I don't think the Doctor wants UNIT or anyone else bungling around in the dark in the TARDIS. Besides, who knows what UNIT would do to her now that her captain is out of commission..." Jack turned back to the Doctor, gently touching his right hand. "Doctor, if you can hear me, we're going to try and move you now, okay? It's just me and Ianto. We're going to take you back to the hub and call Martha for you, okay?"

The Doctor didn't move.

Jack cast a glance back and Ianto. "Ready?"

Ianto nodded, sliding back out of the way so that Jack would have room to maneuver should he actually manage to pry the Doctor out of his hiding spot.

Jack placed one hand on the Doctor's undamaged shoulder, pausing for a moment to see if the Doctor reacted to the touch, but when he didn't, Jack tentatively pulled the Doctor forwards so he could actually try and move him out from under the console.

It happened so fast that Jack didn't even register it at first. One minute he was looking at the Doctor, and the next he was flat on his back staring up at the underbelly of the TARDIS's main controls seeing stars.

"Jack!" Ianto glanced down at him but kept the torch and his gun, which had suddenly replaced the rift detector, pointed at the Doctor.

The Time Lord scrambled backwards as fast as possible, which wasn't very considering his injuries. His leg dragged behind him, apparently useless, as he bolted for the walls of the TARDIS, a bloody trail smeared across the paneling. He practically threw himself against the side of the TARDIS, slumping against it with his wounded arm behind one of the supports and his back to the wall. From there, he barely moved, except for the frantic gasping. But, now he registered that someone was there, though whether or not he actually recognized who they were was up for debate.

"Jack, are you okay?" Ianto said, eyes darting to his fallen boss.

"Fine. What the hell happened?" Jack groaned, sitting up. He felt the back of his head where it collided with the deck of the TARDIS and felt a lump growing. Nothing to worry about, it would be gone in an hour.

Ianto kept his eyes trained on the Doctor as he answered. "He's still got one good leg it appears, sir."

Jack smiled ruefully. "I suppose I should've expected that." He focused on the Doctor, and couldn't help the twinge of sadness at seeing the great Time Lord reduced to hiding the corner like a frightened child.

"How are we going to move him if we can't touch him?" Ianto asked the obvious. "We can't make him walk on that leg, it would just be cruel. Who knows what kind of damage he would do to it?"

"We have any industrial strength tranquilizers in the hub?" Jack asked, only half joking.

"Industrial, yes. But strong enough for the Doctor?" Ianto shrugged. "Do you even know what it would do to him? Torchwood One had nothing on the Doctor as far as physiology…well, beyond the fact that he has two hearts…"

"You can put the gun away Ianto," Jack said, climbing to his feet. "He's not going to hurt anybody. And I'd rather not make him regenerate again. I like him this way."

"Right. Doctor doesn't like guns," Ianto said, mostly to himself, as he tucked the gun away inside his coat and out of view.

"Doctor, you have to come with us now," Jack coaxed gently. "You need help, and we're going to try, but you need to come out of the TARDIS."

The Doctor focused in on Jack, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Just a mixture of terror and anger.

"We need to find out what happened to you, Doctor. We're going to take you someplace safe. I promise," Jack said, kneeling in front of the wounded alien, this time out of reach of the one good leg, just in case. Though, it appeard that the Doctor used up what little energy he had on his short outburst. The gasps of air were more irregular now, and Jack was a little shamed to say that he hoped the Doctor would pass out from the injuries, or hyperventilate.

The wide, terrified brown eyes locked on Jack's and for the first time, the Doctor actually spoke.

Except Jack couldn't understand a word he said.

He glanced back at Ianto to see if it was just his hearing, but Ianto looked just as confused.

"What language  _is_  that?" Ianto asked. "I've never heard anything like it."

Jack glanced around the TARDIS and as soon as his eyes lit upon the dead console, his heart sank, and he rubbed a hand across his face. "If the TARDIS is dead, then it can't translate. There was a similar problem when he was regenerating that Christmas the Sycorax attacked, according to Rose. When the Doctor is out of commission, the TARDIS doesn't work right. Maybe it works in reverse?"

"Wouldn't you think that the Doctor knows most languages anyway? He's spent most of his time on Earth, you would think someone of his genius could pick up on English," Ianto pointed out.

"Unless the TARDIS translates everything for him, all the time. Besides, he's not exactly in the right mindset anyway," Jack replied. He turned back to the Doctor, a look of awe suddenly crossing his face. "Which means he's speaking Gallifreyan…"

"Which nobody knows since he's the last of the Time Lords," Ianto said mildly. "I don't suppose he knows sign language?"

Before Jack could respond, the Time Lord gave a shout in the same foreign tongue, free hand suddenly clutching at his head, eyes squeezed shut in obvious agony.

"Shit," Jack swore, reaching his hand out to the Doctor.

The Doctor had apparently one last burst of energy in him and sprang to his feet, wobbling violently for a second. His injured arm hung dead at his side, and the leg he was able to stand on shook violently. He hissed in pain, the good hand still held firmly to his temple as if trying to literally shove the pain out of his head.

He spoke the same sentence again, or it at least sounded like the same words as before. It sounded like a warning of some sort, but Jack was only guessing based on the distress the Doctor was in. It could've been complete gibberish even in Gallifreyan, for all he knew.

The words themselves seemed to cause the Doctor pain, and there was a sharp gasp as he doubled over once more.

"What the hell is he saying?" Ianto asked, though he knew it was pointless.

" _I'm recording it from here,_ " Gwen said over the set. " _We can see if someone has any idea how to translate later_."

"Doctor," Jack said, inching closer to the Doctor and hoping he wasn't going to get punched or headbutted for his efforts. Kneeling on the metal floor he managed to be able to see eye to eye with the Doctor, who still had his shut. Perhaps the most disturbing part was that Jack could see a tear leaking out the corner of his eye from the pain.

When the Doctor realized that someone was in front of him, his eyes cracked open. The Doctor had pathetic puppy dog looks down to an art form, but this was something different. Jack didn't see the Doctor in those brown eyes anywhere.

The Doctor spoke again, this time barely above a whisper before clutching at his head again. This time seemed to be too much for him and he collapsed forwards into Jack. Fortunately, the Captain was prepared and caught him before he had a chance to do any more damage to himself.

"Is he out?" Ianto asked, trying to stay objective. He knew that Torchwood was originally supposed to capture the Doctor on sight, but that was before Jack…now he fought against a pang of jealousy towards the wounded alien.

"Yeah…" Jack said, shifting the unconscious Doctor in his arms so he could actually pick him up.

The Doctor looked skinny as a rail and he felt it too. Jack might as well have been lifting a ten year old instead of a full grown adult.

"At least now we can get him back to the hub without sedating him or injuring him further. Ianto, lock up the TARDIS. We'll move it out of the plass as soon as we can get him settled. I don't want UNIT or one of the other Torchwoods getting wind of this. Gwen, get the medical bay ready. We're going to need it. And see if Tosh has any sort of translation programs on her computer that can translate what he was speaking. He might have been trying to tell us who did this," Jack directed, swinging the Doctor up into his arms like he was carrying a child. "Make sure Martha knows what she's in for."

Ianto nodded, following behind Jack so he could get something to seal the TARDIS with. As the three men exited, Ianto turned to shut the door behind them when he noticed something he had completely missed the first time. Originally they were solely focused on the fact that the TARDIS was quiet and dark, and Ianto had automatically assumed it was because the Doctor was so badly out of it once they saw him.

"Jack," he called over his shoulder. "I think he was being chased," he said.

Jack turned to see what the hell Ianto was talking about and he could feel the blood drain from his face…before it started to boil.

The TARDIS was scorched in multiple places, as if it had been caught in a battle recently. And if whoever was shooting at the Doctor managed to score the TARDIS, it was serious fire power they were dealing with.

And then there was the obvious potential that he hadn't managed to lose his pursuers entirely…and they could already be on their way.

"Dammit Doctor…you never do anything half assed…"


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell happened to him?" Gwen demanded as soon as Ianto and Jack came through the gear door. The limp form of the Doctor caused her to gasp slightly. Last time she'd seen the Doctor, he was all smiles despite the fact that they were discussing how the Daleks were stealing planets.

"If we knew, we would tell you. The TARDIS looks dead, but we're not sure if that's because the Doctor is injured, or because whoever did this to him damaged the ship," Jack growled.

"Did he say anything?" Gwen asked, following behind Ianto and Jack as they headed for the medical bay-also known as autopsy- Jack carefully maneuvering around the Hub with the Doctor still unconscious and dripping blood onto the floor.

Jack tried not to think just how much blood had been spilled on this particular floor. Unbidden, the memory of New Year's 1999 came to mind, and he shook the thought away. Now was not the time.

"Yes, but it was in Gallifreyan. We think," Ianto supplied. "He's a little out of it, as you could imagine." The Welshman walked in front of Jack, moving larger objects out of the way and darting down into the autopsy well ahead of Jack, looking for the sheets normally used to cover corpses. The Doctor had enough problems – he didn't really want to add freezing on a cold metal slab to them.

Jack cautiously set the Time Lord on the edge of the table, the Doctor's head lolling back bonelessly causing Jack to wince.

"Sorry Doctor," he muttered, before gently laying him down on the sheet Ianto had spread out on the medical table.

"Any idea what happened?" Gwen asked, staying on the balcony above them. The autopsy well was a small room, and she wanted to stay out of Jack and Ianto's way while they tried to sort out the Doctor.

"Someone attacked the TARDIS," Ianto explained. "There's scorch marks all over the outside. Torchwood One's files said that the TARDIS had incredible shields, so either they had a really powerful weapon, or the Doctor had the shield's lowered for some reason."

"So maybe he knew the attacker?" Gwen suggested. "Who could possibly want to hurt the Doctor?"

At Jack and Ianto's quick disparaging looks, she immediately amended the statement. "Well, who could want him hurt and actually be able to?"

Jack shrugged. "Any one of a hundred thousand beings, I would guess. I mean, he travels through all of time and space, meddling in everything. Anyone from any time could have done this."

"I'm assuming the Doctor isn't stupid enough to lower the shields for just anyone though. It would need to be someone he thought he could trust," Ianto pointed out.

"Or, like you said someone with really powerful weapons. Gwen, did you get a hold of Martha?" Jack asked, looking up at the woman.

Gwen nodded. "She said she would be here within the hour, and try to make him as comfortable as possible in the meantime."

"What should we do with the TARDIS?" Ianto asked. "We can't leave it out on the plass without someone noticing it besides tourists. UNIT is still in the fence whether or not we can trust them."

Jack was only half paying attention to the other two as he stared down at the Doctor, who might as well been dead for all the signs of life he showed. He hadn't moved since he'd collapsed against Jack, and with two hearts, trying to tell if his pulses were at the right pace was a little difficult.

"Gwen, stay here and clean him up as best you can. See if you can slow the bleeding from the worst wounds before Martha gets here. Ianto, you and I are going to go get the TARDIS and see if we can get it down here. I don't want anyone else just poking around when the defenses are down." Jack paused for a moment, glancing down at the Doctor, who looked even paler than he did a few moments ago. "I think the Doctor needs the TARDIS close by for a while. We can stick it down in the archives."

"How are we going to move it? A dolly?" Ianto quipped, raising an eyebrow. "We obviously can't fly it."

"We'll figure it out. Let's go. Gwen, stay here. We'll call if we need you, and let us know when Martha gets here."

Gwen nodded, making her way down into the medical bay as Ianto and Jack headed back up towards the plass.

"Should I see if I can set up some sort of…scan to see if anything is following after him?" she asked, chewing her lower lip. She may have made the suggestion, but she wasn't entirely sure how to do it. She missed Tosh…

Jack nodded. "Good idea. Ianto?"

"On it, sir," he said, disappearing into the Hub's main room.

Jack glanced back down at Gwen who was going through the medical drawers pulling out antiseptic and gauze. She was a natural born caregiver. Out of the three of them, she was the best choice to leave with the wounded Doctor, but he still didn't like the idea of leaving her alone with him. But since he had no other choice, he followed after Ianto to see if they could wrestle the TARDIS down below without killing themselves, or breaking the ship further.

Gwen methodically started cleaning out the most obvious of the Doctor's wounds, though she didn't touch his obviously broken arm. Cuts were okay – even though the gash across his forehead and the tear in his thigh were more severe than what she was used to, the basic principle for cleaning and suturing was the same. As she dabbed at the blood near his eye, she couldn't help but brush a stray strand of hair out of his face, marveling at the fact that the being before her was almost a thousand years old and one of the most powerful species in the whole of space.

Gwen didn't have any real idea who the Doctor was – just that he was a Time Lord, and he was the one who Jack ran off to meet her first year in Torchwood. Ianto at least had some information from his days in Torchwood One before it was destroyed in the battle of Canary Wharf. Every time Jack spoke of the Doctor, there was a wisftful look on his face and spoken of in reverent tones. The scrawny, dorky looking man hardly looked like the type of man to bring entire races cowering to their knees. Especially when he seemed barely alive.

He looked sad, she decided. Even unconscious, the Time Lord had a sort of sadness about him. Like he was tired and weary, but unable to rest.

The Doctor suddenly moved, bringing his one good arm to press against the side of his head, moaning quietly and curling over on one side.

Gwen hit the overhead lights, dimming it considerably to an almost twilight setting, hoping it was just the brightness bothering him. She wished Owen was here. He would know what to do…even if he wouldn't be so pleasant about doing it.

She wondered where the redhead was that she saw on the computer screen with the Doctor earlier. Was she still in the TARDIS somewhere? Did he drop her off? Did whatever happen to him happen to her first?

Her head jerked up at a very loud bang and thud followed by long string of Welsh curses.

"Sorry Ianto," Jack apologized.

Ianto's reply was more swearing, but Jack seemed to find the whole situation, whatever it was, rather amusing and started to laugh.

"Not funny, Jack. That thing is heavier than it looks."

"Time Lord technology – nothing is ever what it seems."

"Did you get the TARDIS into the Hub?" Gwen asked over the blue tooth set. She didn't want to shout and she didn't want to leave the Doctor alone, but it still felt slightly foolish to be calling them from just down the hall on the phone.

"Yeah, and you don't want to know how," Jack replied cryptically.

A moment later he popped his head in through the doorway. "What's with the lights? Did something happen?"

"Not really," Gwen said. "He seemed to have a bad headache when he came 'round a little while ago, so I dimmed the lights. Other than turning on his side he hasn't done anything though. He seems pretty out of it."

Jack frowned at that. "I hope Martha has some insight. We're flying blind and I don't like it." The Captain quietly came down the stairs to check on the Doctor himself.

"Jack," Gwen started, before pausing. She wasn't sure exactly what she expected for an answer. "Did you find the redhead anywhere?"

"Donna?" Jack asked. "No. There's no one else on board the TARDIS. Why?"

"What if whatever attacked him got her first?" Gwen asked.

"We'll have to wait for him to wake up before we can find out anything…assuming he speaks English this time around."

"I thought he spoke English anyway?"

Jack sighed. "I assume he does. Someone who's been around as long as him probably knows every language, I would guess, but it might be that the TARDIS translates for him automatically and with it out of comission, he might not be able to speak English anymore. We'll just have to wait and see…"

"He reminds me of you when you were down here…after you fought Abbadon."

Jack grimaced at the memory. That was the longest he'd been dead that he could remember. It was not pleasant. "Maybe you should try your method of waking people up from the brink of death."

Unthinking, Jack reached out towards the Doctor, much like Gwen had done a few minutes earlier wiping the blood off his face to brush a strand of hair away when the Doctor jerked away from him. Flinching.

Gwen caught a hurt look flash across Jack's face at the unconscious reaction from the Time Lord before withdrawing his hand.

"He didn't seem to react to well to me on the TARDIS either," Jack said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He had hoped he and the Doctor were past their differences finally.

But even unconscious the Time Lord thought he was Wrong.

"Jack!" Ianto called from the offices. "Martha Jones is here!"

"Gwen, you mind staying with him while we go meet Martha?" Jack asked, jogging up the stairs.

"No, you go and get Martha – let her know what she can expect to see." Gwen waved him off.

As Jack disappeared up the stairs, Gwen turned her attention on the Doctor once more, and caught something out of the corner of her eye that she didn't immediately recognize. She raised the lights once more, despite the cringing of the Doctor who moved his good hand up over his eyes to block out the light.

"What in God's name…?" she muttered, staring at the back of his hand. Tattooed across the Time Lord's hand was a set of numbers and symbols she didn't recognize, but looked familiar all the same. It looked like the serial numbers on concentration camp survivors. She gently picked up his hand for a closer look, and jumped almost a foot in the air.

Wide, terrified brown eyes stared back at her.

The Doctor was finally awake.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello there…" Gwen started, but the Doctor didn't give her a chance to finish.

Bolting straight up, the Doctor rocked violently to one side, flinging himself over the side of the table. There was a loud crash as one of his trainers caught the metal instrument table and sent everything flying. Surprisingly he didn't actually face plant on the floor – a wild fling of his arm caught on one of the support rails and stopped him halfway down.

"Ow…" the Doctor groaned, pressing the heel of his left palm into his eye. "This makes the top ten of worst mornings  _ever_." Belatedly he realized half the problem was the fact that his broken arm was what was supporting him and immediately released his grip on the rail and falling flat on his back, swearing vehemently in a foreign language when it jarred his arm and leg even more.

"Oh thank God, you speak English!" Gwen said. "Are you okay?"

"No, no I'm not…" the Doctor croaked, rubbing absently at the back of his head. "And of course I bloody speak English. Why on Earth wouldn't I?"

"We weren't sure there for a while," Gwen said, leaning over the top of the table. She didn't really want to get hit with a flailing limb, just in case the Doctor wasn't finished thrashing about. "You were babbling on in Gallifreyan when Jack and Ianto found you."

"Doctor?"

The Doctor blinked against the over head lights, wondering if he was hearing voices again. It wouldn't be the first time in the past couple of days…weeks? "That doesn't sound like a Ianto or a Jack…"

"We heard crashing, is everything okay?" Martha Jones asked as she bolted into the medical bay, taking the stairs two at a time.

"The Doctor is awake," Gwen stated bluntly. "And he took out a tray too."

"Martha?"

"Thank God, you're awake! I wasn't sure what to expect when they called and said you were injured. And you speak English!" Martha babbled, fighting the urge to hug her old friend as she came to a halt on her knees in front of him. He looked bruised and bedraggled, and his arm was at a disturbing angle now, but at least he was alert, which was better than she was expecting from Jack's phone call.

"Why is everyone so shocked I can speak English? It's really not that difficult," the Doctor grumbled. He pressed his good hand against his temple, pressing against the side of his head trying to ward off the pounding that was starting up again.

"Like I said Doctor, you were speaking Gallifreyan when we got you off the TARDIS. We knew when you were regenerating during the Sycorax incident that the TARDIS couldn't translate anymore, but we didn't know if the TARDIS was out of commission if it didn't translate for you either," Gwen explained.

The Doctor shook his head and instantly regretted it. "No, that's not how it works," he hissed, pressing harder against the side of his head. "I translate for the TARDIS."

"You?" Ianto said incredulously. "How?"

"Because I know every language. When I was regenerating, the TARDIS couldn't translate for everyone because I was unconscious most of the time. Once I was awake again, she started translating again."

"Doctor, move your hand for a moment, yeah?" Martha said, leaning closer to the Time Lord. She moved her hand towards his temple, intending on moving his hand out of the way so she could examine the cut across his forehead.

The reaction she got was far from expected.

The Doctor struck out at her, slamming the side of his forearm against her wrist and knocking it away from him and shoving himself out of her reach as fast as he could. He only stopped when his back was pressed against the tiled wall of the autopsy well. "Don't touch me!" he snarled.

"Doctor?" Martha said hesitantly, rubbing at the newly forming bruise on her wrist.

The Doctor blinked, and the anger and terror were gone from his eyes. "Martha? What happened?"

"Speaking from experience," Jack said quietly, "I'd say post traumatic stress disorder. When we found the TARDIS, she was all battered and scorched to hell. The core is either dead or very near it. You're not far behind, Doctor. What happened?"

The Doctor stared at Jack, brown eyes seeming even larger than before. "The TARDIS?" He pressed his hand against his forehead once more. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember someone with enough fire power to take out the TARDIS?" Ianto asked skeptically. "There's got to be only a handful of races powerful enough to do that, and the Daleks didn't manage to touch her when they threw her in the core of their ship." Ianto paused, considering. "Doctor, is it possible you knew them well enough to have lowered your shield for them?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I only lowered the shields for myself once. That turned okay…" The movement seemed to cause him more pain and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Doctor, what are those numbers on the side of your hand?" Gwen asked quietly, trying not to make the headache worse.

"Numbers?" The Doctor peeled his eyes open to stare blearily at his hand for a moment. One eyebrow raised in surprise. "Those are detainee numbers for the Shadow Proclamation."

"You were a prisoner?" Martha asked.

"Apparently," the Doctor said, staring at the numbers and obviously trying to remember how he got them.

"Who the hell are the Shadow Proclamation?" Jack asked.

"They're intergalactic police," Martha supplied, edging closer to the Doctor now that he seemed too preoccupied to notice.

"How do you know about them then?" Ianto asked. "Torchwood One only had some vague idea who they were from accounts saying that the Doctor had mentioned them a few times. They make the intergalactic laws."

"Remember when the hospital disappeared a year ago? The Shadow Proclamation was behind that. They sent to the Jundoon to find a plasmavore assassin who was hiding out in the hospital. They had to move the hospital to the moon so they could have jurisdiction," Martha explained. "But why would the police be after you?"

The Doctor half shrugged with his good arm. "I'm not entirely sure. I don't remember most of the last few weeks…" He seemed only vaguely concerned with his lack of memory, which concerned the Torchwood team even more.

"What happened to Donna? Maybe she would know?" Gwen suggested.

The reaction was explosive.

"NO!" the Doctor shouted, launching to his feet. He staggered slightly on his wounded leg, the pressure reopening the wound as it started to bleed again. "DON'T GO NEAR HER! STAY AWAY! You can't ask her!"

"Okay!" Jack said, holding his hands up placatingly. "We won't ask Donna."

"You can't go near her!" The Doctor repeated vehemently. "You can't see her, she can't see you, and she  _must not_  see me!"

"All right! I knew you didn't like me encouraging your companions, but isn't this a little extreme, even for you?" Jack tried joking, but the wild look in the Doctor's eyes made him believe that there was something seriosly wrong with the Doctor they weren't seeing. He'd always seemed a little absent minded, but this was more than that, like he couldn't keep his own thoughts in line.

"Donna can't know what I know!"

As suddenly as the bizarre behavior started, it ended. The Doctor clutched his head, doubling over and gasping in pain. "I won't tell! I won't join!" Suddenly, with enough force to knock himself out, he smashed his forehead as hard as he possible could against the tiled wall and collapsed in a boneless heap.

There was dead silence, none dared to speak. Except for Ianto.

"He's not normally like that, is he?" he asked dryly.

"Now we know what happened to his head…" Gwen observed.

Jack and Martha shared a look. They'd known the Doctor the longest, and in the darkest of times. Never had they seen him lose it quite so completely. The Doctor was acting like he'd lost his mind, swapping back and forth from relatively lucid to not making any sense at all. Even after the horror the Master had put him through, he'd kept his wits about him. He'd witnessed the Time War, and while he'd turned a little bitter, he hadn't gone mad.

Which made whatever had happened that much more frightening. If those couldn't bring him down, what had?

More importantly, could it be fixed?


	4. Chapter 4

_join us…_

… _return…_

… _lead us…_

… _destroyer of worlds…_

The Doctor could hear voices, but he wasn't sure if they were the ones inside his head, or somewhere else. Hushed whispers in his ear about the things he'd done, of what they still had planned.

He cautiously pressed one hand against the side of his head – it still hurt unbelievably, but the pressure seemed to muffle the voices, at least so that they were indistinct mumurs instead of shouted commands.

It actually wasn't so bad, lying there like that. Except he could still feel the gaping hole somewhere in his mind that used to be the presence of the TARDIS. That was more like someone had reached into one of his hearts and taken a huge part and left him to function at half capacity.

The Doctor in him wanted to rationalize that maybe they didn't know what they were doing when they blocked him from the ship. Maybe they didn't realize how closely bonded they were – it was unlike anything else any of the other Time Lords shared. They just used their ships as transport. He and the TARDIS were the last of their kinds, and maybe that didn't help, but at least the warmth of the ship had kept him from going mad sometimes. It was his only reminder of home.

But he knew that they understood perfectly well what they were doing when they tried to sever the link to the ship. They wanted both of them, crippled..unaware…and no longer whole.

Instinctively he tried to reach out for the last tendrils of a connection he had with the TARDIS, but a painful twinge alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone.

"Yes, Jack?" he asked, taken aback by how much of a croak that was. He sounded terrible. He could just imagine what he looked like.

"How'd you know it was me?" the Captain asked, and the Doctor could hear the smile in his voice. "Would you like some water? You've been out of it for about six hours. Quite a knock on the head you gave yourself."

The Doctor nodded slightly holding out his hand and was relieved when a small, cool cup was pressed firmly into it. A part of him was afraid it was another one of their tricks – they'd denied him water for days.

"Why do you always flinch when I come near you?" Jack asked quietly.

The Doctor hadn't even realized he'd done anything until he realized that the water had partially sloshed onto his hand.  _Oops_. He took a sip before replying, relishing the coolness.

"Jack, it has nothing to do with you personally," he began, cracking open one eye. He was relieved to find out that the lights were dimmed and he could actually see the Captain. "You're hard to explain."

Jack gave a mirthless chuckle. "Thanks a lot."

"Not what I meant, and you know it. I tried to explain to you before. You're a fixed point in time. An anomaly."

"Yeah," Jack said. "And after that point you called me wrong."

"Technically, you are. Jack, do you know the full extent of what being a Time Lord means? It means we see everything. Every possibility. That's confusing enough for a person with a normal life span, but being around you, you live millions of lifetimes longer than everyone else, and it  _hurts_  to be near you. I'm sorry for that, but I can't help it. It's instinctual. Any other race sensitive to time would have the same reaction."

Jack was quiet for a long time, and the Doctor started to drift off again.

"You know," Jack said softly, "sometimes I hate Rose Tyler."

The Doctor sighed. "Sometimes, so do I…"

Jack coughed roughly into his hand. "I'm sorry, what did you just say? That the perfect Rose wasn't all that perfect after all? My God, you've got a worse concussion than I thought."

The Doctor grimaced. "When I first met Rose, I wanted to be anyone but me. With her I could pretend like I really was this great hero that she thought I was. I could do no wrong as far as she was concerned, and I loved her for it. But she made me forget too much, of who and what I really was. I spent so much time running, I never bothered to look back. I didn't dare. I didn't want to see the nightmares chasing me." He squeezed his eyes shut and turned further towards the pillow beneath his head. "I didn't want to admit what I'd done, not even to myself."

The whispers were getting stronger again, and he pushed his hand against the side of his skull to silence them.

Jack shifted closer, gently reaching out to brush sweat dampened hair away from the Doctor's face. "You can't have done anything worse than any of us. I mean, I worked for a time agency  _and_  the first Torchwood. You're still a good person."

The Doctor snorted. "It is always good men who do the most harm in the world."

"Doctor," Jack began, sounding very reluctant.

The Doctor cracked an eye at the Captain, "I don't want to know what you're going to ask, do I?"

Jack shook his head. "I actually have a couple of questions. First being, why do you have a detainee tattoo from the Shadow Proclamation on your hand?"

"Probably because I was detained," the Doctor grumbled.

"No shit. Do you remember what for? Or if you were released? Why would they come after you after you saved the Earth?"

The Doctor rubbed the side of his head thoughtfully, absently tracing a finger over the swathe of bandages now adorning his head. "They were angry with me," he replied distantly, "because I wouldn't stay. They wanted me to…" The Doctor yelped as a sharp pain sliced across his consciouness, destroying any thoughts except ones of pain, white and hot. "They wanted me for something, and I wouldn't!" he gasped, twisting onto his back as he tried to escape the pain.

"Whoa there, Doctor, it's okay…do you remember what they wanted you to do?"

_LEAD US!_

_JOIN US!_

_DESTROYER OF WORLDS!_

He was vaguely aware of someone trying to pry his hands away from his forehead, but he tried to pull his wrists out of their grip. "Let go of me!" he shouted. "I won't do it! Not again!"

_LEAD US!_  The voices were screaming in his head now, and he couldn't hear anything over their chanting.

_JOIN US!_

_LEAD US!_

_DESTROYER!_

"Make it stop!" the Doctor shouted, trying to block it out but he still couldn't use his hands. "SHUT UP!"

There was a sharp prick in his arm and the voices started to fade.

And so did everything else.


	5. Chapter 5

"What the hell is going on with him?" Gwen demanded.

Jack half shrugged. "He was tortured, that much is for sure now. There's something still going on inside that head of his, but I don't know what. Martha, did the scans reveal anything?"

The small group was gathered around the table in the conference room. The Doctor was still unconscious from the industrial strength tranquilizer Jack had to give him. The Time Lord was putting so much pressure on his own skull he was tearing and popping the stitches Martha already placed.

"Nothing that I can see, or nothing significant enough that I would want to try anything on him. Owen's technology takes a little getting used to, but I think…"Martha trailed off.

"Think what?" Jack prompted.

"I think there's an energy reading coming from one of his wounds, the one near his temple. But I'm not sure if there's something actually there, or if it's residual from whatever he was hit with, or if I'm just not using the equipment properly," Martha said, sighing in frustration. "And if I'm not positive, I'm not willing to go digging around in his head."

"So then what do we do we do if we think there's something wrong with him? Do we just leave him like this? Is there  _anyone_  else we can call? Does UNIT have any other helpful hints? Medical files on something like this? Failed experiments? Anything at all?" Gwen asked.

Martha shook her head in frustration. "Not that I know of, and none that I can find. The only one who knows what's wrong with him is whoever did it to him, and the Doctor himself, but he's not exactly with it enough to be able to tell us what happened."

"Should we contact the Shadow Proclamation?" Ianto asked.

Jack considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "The Proclamation already had him in custody. I don't want them finding out we're harboring a fugitive is they're willing to kill everyone in a hospital just to get one person."

"So then we're at an impasse," Ianto said.

"Well, the Doctor sounded lucid for a little while when you spoke to him, right Jack?" Martha asked.

"Right up until I mentioned the Shadow Proclamation, and he started freaking out."

"How?"

Jack stared at her for a minute, mouth half opened to respond when he realized he wasn't all that positive what she meant. "What do you mean, 'how'?"

"What did he say? Did he say that they were the ones that did this? Or what they detained him for?"

Jack shook his head. "No. He seemed like he was trying to remember what they wanted him for, but then he just went off into nonsense."

"All right, so the last person we know of to have contact with him, we can't talk to. Why not?" Gwen asked.

Jack shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But he was adamant that we stay away from Donna. Whatever is wrong with him…" Jack trailed off, uncharacteristically chewing at the bottom of his lip. "Wait. While I was talking to him, he kept pressing against his head, like something was bothering him specifically right here." He gestured to his own temple. "And that's where he was digging at until I knocked him out."

The three glanced up at him, hoping he'd reached a revelation.

"Martha, you said you weren't sure there was something in his head, right? But you suspected it?"

Martha nodded. "Yeah, but like I said, I'm not going to go digging around in his skull if I don't know for sure."

"What did the readings look like? Using an x-ray or just the scanner?"

"Just the scanner. It should show anything that an x-ray would find though," Martha said.

"Not if something was only intermittently there. Scanner picks up energy readings. If he has something in his head that isn't working all the time, it would show up sporadically like a false positive. Come on."

Jack hopped up and headed for the medical well, the other three close behind him.

Fortunately the Doctor was still unconscious, though it didn't look the slighest bit restful. His eyes were still cracked open, the faintest slit of white showing, and the rolling of his eyeballs was evident underneath his lids. His hands twitched sporadically, as did his one mobile leg, and his head rocked from side to side.

"Move the x-ray machine over here. I want to see what the hell is right there," Jack said, pointing to the Doctor's left temple, where the stitching was recently redone.

Martha did as she was told and set the machine up next to the Doctor's head. "You're going to have to hold his head still, somehow," Martha cautioned. "With something other than your hands, if you want the image to come out at all."

Ianto and Jack exchanged a weary look. Neither of them really liked the idea of having to tie the Time Lord down given how badly he'd already been treated. Or how he'd reacted to them at first in the TARDIS.

Ianto made the first move, knowing that Jack really didn't want to strap his friend's head down. It didn't much matter to him, since he didn't really know the Doctor beyond the stories from Torchwood One and Jack. He quietly fastened the head restraint across the Doctor's forehead, pulling it tight enough that he could no longer rock from side to side, but not enough to damage the stitching along the crown of his forehead.

Immediately, the rest of the Doctor started to move with a little more urgency, his braced arm over swinging dangerously close to the x-ray machine, his feet drawing up closer to his chest as if trying to protect himself, obviously distressed about being restrained.

"We can't give him anything more, I could stop his hearts," Martha cautioned. "Jack, hold onto his hand. His good one."

"It hurts for him to be around me," Jack protested.

"He'll know it can't be anyone other than you though," the young doctor said. "And I can't do anything until he stops thrashing around."

Jack shot a look at her before glancing back down at the Doctor, who was beginning to strain his neck muscles, trying to pull against the restraint. Hoping he wasn't about to make it worse, he took hold of the Time Lord's hand, wincing slightly as the Doctor flinched automatically.

The group collectively held their breath, and after a long moment, Martha could see the Time Lord was calming down, his movements becoming less erratic.

"All right. Let's hope this shows us  _something_ ," Martha said, moving the x-ray back into position.

Fortunately, the way Owen had left it set up was so that the x-ray didn't need a printout. It scanned directly to a computer.

Small miracles.

Martha took the necessary photos of the side of the Doctor's head, carefully loosening the strap once before turning his head to the side so she could get another angle. The Doctor remained mostly still, though his eyelids were still fluttering as if he was fighting the sedative the whole time.

Jack's grip remained steady as he held the Doctor's bruised and scraped hand, running his fingers soothingly over his knuckles whenever the Doctor tried to move again.

Martha turned to look over her shoulder at the screen behind her as the image downloaded to the computer. Her eyes narrowed at first, before widening in shock.

"What the bloody hell is  _that_?" she demanded, pointing to the x-ray.

The Torchwood team all looked up, their faces registering the same shock and bewilderment.

"That doesn't look good, whatever it is," Gwen said.

Jack peered a little closer at the monitor, before his mouth set in a grim line. "No, Gwen, it's not good. I know  _exactly_  what that is."


	6. Chapter 6

"It's called a subdermal governor. Time Agents pirated the technology and used them as sort of a prison work release program. The original design was for them was to be able to control behavior, through some sort of electromagnetic pulses," Jack explained.

They were gathered around the conference table, having left the Doctor to sleep over the rest of the sedative unfettered in the medical bay.

"So basically a shock collar for the brain," Ianto said.

"Yeah, they weren't really big on compassion. The Time Agency was a fan of them for their less than cooperative prisoners. It's original purpose was for mental patients, a way to control erratic behavior. However, the Agency wasn't exactly the humanitarian sort and used it as a form of torture to drive people insane," Jack explained. "It's like a radio transmitter. You can program it to interrupt thoughts, and insert your own. For a while they had programmable assassins."

"I thought you said he was a prisoner of the Shadow Proclamation. So the Time Agency was the ones who had him?" Gwen asked.

Jack shook his head. "I said they pirated the technology from somewhere else. Maybe it was from the Proclamation."

"Not to interrupt, but Jack…to your knowledge, did the governor act as a tracking device?" Ianto asked quietly.

Despite the low tone, everyone froze and turned their eyes to him. Ianto cleared his throat. "If they can track him, in not only space, but time as well, we might have to prepare for another incident like the hospital with the Jundoon."

"Is the Proclamation even capable of time travel?" Martha asked.

"Well, the Agency stole their governor technology. Maybe they stole the Agency's vortex manipulator technology."

"Or, that's exactly what they were after when they destroyed the TARDIS," Martha suggested.

"Her death could be accidental."

"I'm not so sure she's completely dead," Jack said. "Crippled, definitely. But she came here somehow, so she could just be…resting." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Dammit, I wish I knew more about TARDIS technology…"

"Why would she come here? Or was it the Doctor flying her here?" Gwen asked.

"I can't think of a time when the Doctor willingly went to someone for help, so my guess was this place was the only place she could think of where she could find people who could help."

"Or this was as far as she could get," Ianto said.

"Thank you, Mr. Grim," Jack said. "I think I prefer the help option. But I agree that we should prepare for something like the Jundoon to come looking for him. Maybe not anything as drastic as the hospital, but a smaller group – assuming that they can travel through time too."

"Or they could send a small contingent," Ianto said. "They wouldn't need an invasion force. Just enough to take out, or take back, the Doctor."

"What did they wanted him for?" Gwen piped up. "Did he say?"

Jack shook his head. "Not really. He tried, but that's when he started to freak out."

"Okay, so possibilities?" Ianto asked. "Why would the Doctor be detained, or even allow himself to be captured by an intergalactic police force?"

They were all quiet for a moment before Jack spoke up. "Do you remember when Davros and the Doctor were arguing? Right before Donna showed up and saved the world?"

Martha nodded. "Yeah…Davros called him something. The Oncoming Storm. Is that like a title or something?"

"Not so much a title as a warning…it's what people refer to him as when he's in a bad mood, from what I gathered while traveling with him for the little while that I did. But Davros renamed him, right?"

"Destroyer of Worlds," Ianto confirmed, mouth set in a tight line. "Maybe his new title is what got him into trouble? It may have been Daleks, but he  _did_  just commit mass genocide. And who knows what he might have done in his nine hundred years? Maybe the Shadow Proclamation decided he was too dangerouns to be left alone anymore."

"Like Torchwood?" Martha said, without any real venom.

Ianto nodded, idly tapping against the table.

"Don't do that," Jack snapped.

Ianto looked up in surprise, his fingers stilling. "Do what? Tap?"

"That rhythm. Beats of four. Don't do that." Jack glowered at the Welshman.

Ianto had the decency to look slightly sheepish. "Sorry. I didn't even notice."

"What if that's what they were trying to do?" Martha asked suddenly.

The three Torchwood members turned to her, waiting for further explanation.

"What if what the Doctor is hearing is something like that? Wasn't the Master always going on about the Drums of War? Something in his head only he could hear, and was driving him to his insanity? Maybe they're trying to drive the Doctor just as insane."

"What in hell would you possibly want a lunatic Time Lord on your hands for?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe not necessarily insane…but what if they were trying to drive him towards a purpose? Maybe they wanted him to do something that he would otherwise refuse?" Ianto suggested.

"The Doctor wants to help almost everyone. Hell, he even gave the Master another chance after all that he did to the Earth. To him," Jack said. "Everyone except Daleks and Cybermen. And maybe those guys just used up their chances before now."

"So what's something so horrible that the Doctor would refuse to help unless driven out of his rational mind?" Gwen asked.

Jack and Martha shared a disturbed look, before Jack finally sighed. "If he was asked to fight. If the Shadow Proclamation ordered him to fight, he would've never agreed."

"Wait a minute, I thought that's all the Doctor did – fight for the forces of good, but fight nonetheless," Gwen said. "Why wouldn't he fight for the Proclamation? They're the police. Doesn't that make them the good guys?"

Jack shook his head. "The Doctor doesn't choose sides. He does what  _he_  thinks is right. Not what others  _tell_  him is right. If they demanded he fight for them…I'm assuming lead them in battle, since he was a General in the Time War – not to mention he probably has more combat experience than any race combined…he'd turn them down, and probably not very graciously."

Ianto snorted. "I somehow can't picture the great and powerful Doctor flipping the authorities the bird."

Jack actually smiled at that. "Really? Because I can."

"But they had to have known that he wouldn't easily aquiesce to such a request," Martha said doubtfully. "Maybe it's not that they wanted him to do something, but that he'd already done it, and they were angry with him."

Jack sighed. "That could be it too…dammit, I wish he was awake and could talk to us. How long should he be out with that sedative you gave him?"

Martha looked at her watch. "I would guess probably another hour. I mean, that stuff could knock out a rhinoceros for six hours, so it should probably hold him for around two, knowing his metabolism."

"All right, so in the mean time…I say get some rest. We'll set up extra security for now to hopefully dampen any trace of a signal the governor might be giving out, and I'll take first watch with the Doctor, just in case he comes out of it early and tries to kill himself again with another 'cerebral recalibration' running himself into a wall."

"Come get me if he starts to wake up, yeah?" Martha said, as she stood and stretched. "The drive took forever to get here, and I know I'll like the nap, but if you need me…"

"We'll come get you," Jack assured her. "Don't worry."

"Come on, I can show you our guest quarters," Gwen said, and escorted Martha from the conference room.

Jack and Ianto both headed for the control room to check on their charge and set up the extra security parameters like they'd suggested, and Jack immediately headed for the medical bay.

The Doctor was still out cold, but his eyes still fluttered disturbingly, like he was fighting the chemical induced sleep the whole time. His half red eye looked even more bizarre when he was mostly asleep, and Jack fought the urge to push down on the lids like one would a corpse. He doubted the Doctor would appreciate the thought.

"JACK!" Ianto suddenly shouted from the computers, and Jack looked up to see the Welshman staring open mouted at the monitors in shock.

"What? Did the Jundoon find us already?" Jack demanded, taking the stairs two at a time. He stood beside Ianto as he looked for whatever it was that obviously distressed his lover.

"No…but…is that who I think it is?" Ianto asked, pointing to the security footage for the pier side entrance to Torchwood.

Jack leaned closer, and felt his jaw drop when he finally recognized the face. "What the…"

"Harold Saxon?"


	7. Chapter 7

"You've  _got_  to be joking," Jack said.

Harold Saxon, former Prime Minister and deranged psychotic Time Lord stood in the lobby of the fake tour guide office at the entrance to the hub, looking for all the world like he was nothing out of the ordinary. Gone were the Armani suits, and now that Ianto looked again, he looked…ill. Even though the picture was black and white, he could see the several days of unshaven stubble around his chin, his eyes sunken and shadowed. Wearing an old hoodie with his hands in the middle pocket made him look almost non-threatening…except for the smile.

"How is he even alive? I thought you said he died onboard the  _Valiant_  during that whole SNAFU with the Doctor and the Year that Never Was?" Ianto asked.

The man on the screen suddenly turned his face up to the camera directly and smiled, revealing every last one of his teeth.

It wasn't a friendly smile. That was how sharks smiled at their prey. Ianto felt a chill go down his spine. He didn't remember anything from that fiasco other than watching with the rest of the world as the Prime Minister ordered the American President killed. But he remembered what Jack told him. He remembered the nights when the other man would wake up screaming in the dark because of what he'd endured at the hands of the deranged Time Lord. And if  _that_  was the smile that went along with the nightmares…

"Hello,  _Captain_ ," Saxon said, never losing the smile. "I know you're in there. And I know you have what I'm looking for. Be a good boy and open up for daddy, hmm?"

"Jack?" Ianto questioned, raising his eyes to the immortal.

Jack stood frozen, staring at the screen in disbelief and horror. "Not possible," he whispered. "He  _can't_  be here. No  _fucking_  way."

"Jack, focus. He doesn't have the Toclafane. Or the TARDIS. And if he's as powerful as you remember, why wouldn't he just blast open the door and kill us anyway?"

"Listen to Eye Candy!" Saxon said, his voice sing-songing like a reprimanding school teacher.

That brought up both men short. He couldn't  _hear_  them, could he?

No. But he wasn't an idiot. A year of torturing Jack probably gave him all sorts of information. Time Lords were time sensitive, that was the rule – which means he could probably pick the last of their kind and a time anomaly like Jack out of a trans-dimensional haystack. Simple logic told him that Jack was watching, and that he probably had someone with him. Eye Candy was a generic nickname, and could be anyone from Torchwood.

"I'm going to kill him," Jack said, and suddenly he was gone, running up the stairs, his great coat billowing behind him.

"Jack, wait!"

* * *

The Master rubbed his forehead, trying to massage away the building headache. The Freak was on his way, if the pressure behind his eyes was any indication. How did the Doctor manage to stand so close to him all the time?

There was a not so subtle 'whoosh' of a sealed door opening, and cold steel pressed against the Master's forehead. It actually felt rather nice in comparison. "Really? Because the last time someone tried to shoot me, it didn't really stick, now did it?"

"They weren't aiming at your skull, you bastard."

"I know perfectly well who my parents were, Freak. Can you say the same?"

The old fashioned gun made an audible click.

"I should kill you now," Jack growled, pressing the metal harder against the Master's forehead.

The Master opened his eyes and looked at Jack for the first time. The handsome Time Agent's face was twisted into a snarl of unimaginable hatred. With every ounce of sincerity that the Master could manage, he said very quietly, "Please do."

"How are you even alive?" Jack growled. "I watched you die in the arms of the Doctor onboard the  _Valiant_.  _How_  can you be here?"

"Lucy didn't finish the job. But you can," the Master said. The headache was forming a tempo now. Four quick beats, a reminder of why he was still here. "You're a better killer. Do it."

The anger on Harkness's face was tempered slightly by confusion. Right. These were the Doctor's friends. They were going to need more incentive.

"Jack, wait!"

Eye Candy. So that meddlesome Time Agent was right about one thing. Where Harkness was, Ianto Jones wouldn't be far behind.

The Welshman put a cautious arm on Jack's, the one without the gun. "Jack, before you kill him, remember: he's the  _only_  other Time Lord we have."

The Master could see the emotions play across the Captain's face plain as day. Anger, fear, concern (that was obviously not directed towards him), and eventually resignation and steely resolve.

"You have one chance to explain why you're here. And  _how_."

The Master sighed. "If you're not going to kill me, at least put the gun down. Now you just look ridiculous."

When the former Time Agent refused, the Master's own prickly obstinance bubbled to the surface despite the Program. He folded his arms against his chest and leaned back against the welcome desk of the fake tour guide office. "I don't have a time limit."

"Neither do I," Jack snarled. His gun never wavered.

"I also have nothing to lose." The Master watched as Jack's eye twitched. Ah ha. Right track on that one. " _You_ , on the other hand, apparently have  _everything_  to lose."

" _What_  are you doing here?" Jack repeated. "Are you the one who did this to the TARDIS? Are you the one behind what happened to the Doctor? How did you manage to find him so quickly?"

The Master remained silent, glaring balefully at Harkness.

"Jack…" Jones interjected quietly. "Look at his head."

The Master suppressed the reflexive flinch when a brief moment of pity crossed Jack's face when he saw the scar running just under his ear.

"You've got one, too, don't you."

It wasn't a question.

"Someone needs to have a  _very_  serious discussion with your Time Agency about leaving their toys scattered about time. Anyone could get their hands on them," the Master said, explaining without saying anything important.

"Were you a prisoner too?" Ianto asked.

One might mistake their expression for caring, but the Master wasn't an idiot. Crazy, yes. Stupid, no. He knew they'd just realized that he was their best and most likely only answer to what happened to the Doctor. Especially if he'd deteriorated further since he last saw him with the Proclamation hag.

Harkness and Jones just realized they needed him alive.

There went his hope of convincing Harkness to shoot him.

"Some dogs have longer leashes than others," the Master offered.

"You don't look much like a spaniel," Jones quipped.

The smirk was genuine. Jones was his favorite of Jack's toys. Snark right up until the end. And what a beautiful end it was…Harkness wasn't the same after it.

"More of a retriever." He chose his words carefully, trying to get around the loopholes of the governor. He winced at the 'mild' jolt it sent in warning. It knew he was trying to get around the parameters that hag and her barely sentient rhino army set on it.

Or the bitch was getting button happy and trying to teach him a lesson. He made a mental note to peel the flesh from her bones when he saw her again.

With his  _teeth._

"You still haven't explained how you're alive," Jack said.

"You still haven't put down the gun. We can't stay long, they won't be happy about it. Time is irrelevant to them because they can't understand it," the Master said, rubbing at his ear. The drumbeat was drowning in the high pitched whine emitting from the governor.

"Your ear is bleeding," Jones said.

The Master pulled his hand away and stared at the sticky redness on his fingertips. "They're getting impatient. They know I'm close to him. Kill me now, or they're going to realize  _how_  close I am to him."

Harkness and Jones shared a bewildered look.

"You're not making any sense whatsoever. Who is getting impatient? And how do they know you're close to the Doctor?" Harkness asked. He finally lowered the gun, but didn't put it back in the shoulder holster.

"I  _can't_  tell you, you stupid ape," the Master growled, and the whine increased tenfold. He felt his ear drum burst and his equilibrium gave out almost instantly as blood poured out of his ear. He swore vehemently in Gallifreyan.  _Stupid bitch_. "She's trying to recall us, but the technology is broken. She doesn't know where or when we are, just that we're near each other."

Another high pitched whine spiked through his brain, sending flashing colors that didn't belong across his vision. He barely noticed he was on his knees in front of the humans, but in a rare moment, he didn't care. He was no one's lapdog. But if he was going to be a prisoner, he would take his chances with the humans.

The Master thrust his other hand out, the one that until this moment remained hidden in his prison issued sweatshirt.

"Get it off before she activates it!" he snarled. "And you can keep it!"

"Isn't that…yours, Jack?"

Did all these creatures ever do was  _talk_?

"TAKE THE BLOODY THING!" The Master yelled, still holding his arm out. He slammed his head against the counter he was leaning against. "Take the whole arm if you have to!"

The wretched woman's voice echoed in his head, and he mentally snarled in defiance of her order to return to her.

 _Be a good dog_ , she warned.  _Before I have to put you down._

 _Take your best shot, bitch_ , he thought, mentally forming an image of what he planned to do to her when he returned. He wondered if she could hear him the same way he could hear her.

The spike of agony that crushed his thoughts as effectively as a boot did an ant suggested she could, and she was not amused.

He barely felt the Captain pull the vortex manipulator off his wrist, scraping skin off with it.

_Ha! Come and get me now!_

The Master felt more blood trickling down his face, this time from the corner of his eyes and nose.

She may not be able to force recall him anymore, but that didn't mean he was out of her reach. He was too valuable a pet to let someone else have him, and she meant to destroy him if she could before she allowed that to happen.

The torture ratcheted up a notch he didn't even know existed.

He could hear himself scream, but he didn't care. He welcomed death. He wanted to die, and it was no longer a punishment. Something  _she_  failed to realize.

 _This was winning_.

And then suddenly something blunted and powerful struck the side of his head, and everything disappeared. The pain, the screaming…the whole world.

But he still wasn't dead. Not yet, anyway. And he found himself disappointed.


End file.
